The Bell (36 page)

The ribbons were proving more troublesome than Mrs Mark had foreseen. The weather was partly to blame. The strands of satin, attached so far at the top only, streamed gaily away, flapping against themselves and each other with almost whip-like cracks, and gave to the bell more the appearance of a maypole than of a bride. Gradually the recalcitrant ribbons were being attached to the silk, following the design of tiny crosses inscribed the night before in pencil by Mrs Mark, but even when attached the fluttering loops gave so much purchase to the wind that hasty tacking, especially if it was the work of Dora, was often pulled undone again. James had suggested pushing the trolley into the stable yard where it would be more sheltered, but Mrs Mark, now thoroughly in a panic and expecting the Bishop to arrive at any moment, preferred to have it left where it was, well in view upon the terrace.

Dora, more than usually butter-fingered with anxiety, fumbled with a ribbon. She had already had to undo it once all the way up to the top because of having inadvertently got it twisted. The ribbon was becoming slightly grey in her perspiring hands. The letter for Toby was still in her pocket and she would have excused herself from Mrs Mark for a moment in order to deliver it if she could have found out where Toby was; but this, in the hurly-burly, no one seemed to know. There was no sign of the boy. Dora trusted that he would surely turn up for the baptism service; and trusted equally that Paul, immersed in his studies, forgetting the time, would not, or at least would be late. As Dora kept looking up from her work to watch for Toby and Mrs Mark kept looking up to watch for the Bishop, things went ahead pretty slowly.

As they worked Mrs Mark was talking to Dora. It did not take Dora long, little as she attended to what was being said, to realize that she was being got at. Mrs Mark, on her own account or put up to it by somebody, was set to deliver a series of admonitions, and after a rather indirect beginning was now becoming positively frank. At another time Dora would have been furious. At present, however, the heavy responsibilities of her vatic role sufficiently distracted her, and a consciousness of innocence lent her detachment. It was true that she had let Toby embrace her, but the embrace had been incidental to a larger enterprise; and the implied charge of having actually pursued the young man did little justice to Dora's concern with higher matters. Virtuously indignant, Dora lent half an ear to Mrs Mark's clumsy and rather arch attempts, to make a moral point.

‘I hope you won't mind my saying these things,' said Mrs Mark. ‘After all, it isn't as if we were all just on holiday here. I know you aren't used to this sort of atmosphere. But one must remember that little escapades which would be quite harmless in another place do matter here because, well, we do try to live a certain rather special sort of life, with certain special standards, you know. We live by rules ourselves and if our guests just don't there'll be chaos, won't there? It stands to reason. I know this sounds awfully dull and sober - and I'm sure your London friends would think we were a very stuffy lot. But trying to live up to ideals does often make one look ridiculous. And what I mean is this, that an inexperienced person may be quite upset by a sort of companion-ate friendliness in a member of the other sex, if he isn't used to that sort of thing. So we must be very careful, mustn't we? Oh dear, am I being terribly solemn?'

‘Here's the Bishop!' said Dora, delighted to be able to terminate these rambling admonishments by the news that would throw Mrs Mark finally into a tizzy. A car had swung round out of the avenue and was to be seen speeding along the drive on the other side of the lake.

‘Oh dear, oh
dear
!' said Mrs Mark, not sure whether to go on tacking ribbons or to rush back to take a final glance at the refectory. She dithered in the doorway, took off her overall, threw it under a chair, and then hurried through to call up the stairs to James who didn't appear to be there.

Dora stood by the bell, hands on hips, watching the car as it slowed down to cross the three bridges at the end of the lake. The car looked vaguely familiar. She supposed it was a common make. In the background she could hear Mrs Mark calling, and then moaning that just at the crucial moment
everybody
had disappeared; Dora watched the car serenely. She carried no responsibility for the success of the ensuing ceremonies, and indeed felt towards them much as Elijah must have felt when watching the efforts of the prophets of Baal.

The car was now coming towards them head on along the last section of the drive leading towards the house. Mrs Mark, still twittering, had emerged again onto the terrace. The car came up the slight slope towards them and stopped about thirty yards away. A figure got out. It was Noel Spens.

Dora's hands dropped to her side. ‘Oh good Lord!' she said.

‘It's not the Bishop after all!' said Mrs Mark.

‘No, it's a friend of mine,' said Dora, ‘a journalist. Oh God.' She set off at a run towards Noel.

Noel stood beside the car, one hand on the roof, smiling as if he had just called to take Dora out to dinner. She reached him, slithering to a standstill on the gravel, abrupt and savage as a small bull.

‘Go away!' said Dora. ‘Go away at
once.
Get into the car, for God's sake, before someone sees you, and go. I can't think what's possessed you to come here. I told you not to come. You'll ruin everything.'

‘What a charming welcome,' said Noel. ‘Keep your hair on, darling. I've no intention of going. I've come to do a job of work. I'm going to do a feature on this bell business. Don't you think it's an amusing idea?'

‘No, I don't,' said Dora. ‘Noel, use your
mind.
Paul's here. If he sees you he'll think I asked you, and he'll make the most beastly scene.
Please
, darling, go away. You'll only make awful trouble for me if you don't.'

‘Look, sweetie,' said Noel. ‘As you know, I usually behave with angelic tolerance where you're concerned. You may even have got it into your head that old uncle Noel doesn't mind what you do. You can just pop over to see him if you want to be consoled and pop off again when it suits you and he'll always be there waiting for you with a gin and martini. Well, that isn't altogether untrue; but somehow just lately I've found this role doesn't suit me quite so well as it used to. I've always acknowledged responsibilities where you are concerned; perhaps I've got some rights too. As you know, I was damn glad to see you the other day; and I was more than somewhat peeved when you cleared off. I don't usually yearn for what is not, I'm not the type. But I did feel I wanted to see you again soon - and I felt a little anxious about your curious state of mind. I thought those nuns might have been getting inside you. Then, oddly enough, my editor who knows the old Bishop who's coming down to bless your bell, got wind of this business quite independently and asked me to come. So I felt that in the circumstances it would be positively frivolous not to!'

‘Oh, to hell with all that,' said Dora. ‘The point is
Paul's
here. Can't you get it into your head? For Christ's sake go away before he sees you.'

‘I'm fed up with hearing about Paul,' said Noel. ‘Paul treats you disgustingly and you never really cared for him anyway. I think a little plain dealing with Paul wouldn't be a bad idea. I'm not sure that I won't give Paul a piece of my mind.'

‘You can't be serious!' moaned Dora, distracted. ‘You don't know what he's
like.
You've only seen him at parties. The Bishop will arrive any moment and then everyone will come and Paul will make a scene and I couldn't bear it!'

‘You're a dreadful girl,' said Noel. ‘You placate Paul until you can't stand it any longer and then you run away and then you get frightened and then you start placating him again. You must either knuckle under completely or else fight him. Quite apart from anything else, your present policy isn't fair to Paul. You won't really know whether you want to stay with him until you've fought him openly on equal terms, and not just by running away. And my guess is that once you start to fight you'll know you can't stay with Paul. And this is where I begin to get interested. You're unreliable and untidy and ignorant and totally exasperating but somehow I'd like to see you around the place again.'

‘Gosh, you aren't
falling in love
with me?' cried Dora, horrified.

‘I don't use that terminology,' said Noel, ‘so let's just say that I miss you. It's not out of sight out of mind any more, my girl.'

‘Oh Lord!' said Dora. ‘Look, Noel, I just haven't time for this just now. I'm terribly sorry, I do appreciate it and all that, and I know you're serious and I
will
explain, but the fact is I've got a plan on just now, nothing to do with Paul, and if things blow up over you it'll spoil it all - so do be an angel and go away. I
will
tell you all about it, only it's so teribly complicated. Do go, Noel, before something happens.'

‘Sorry Dora,' said Noel. ‘Just this once uncle Noel is going to do what
he
wants and not what
you
want. Where shall I put my car? I suppose I'd better leave the way clear for the Bish's Rolls Royce.'

‘Now
you're
bullying me!' said Dora, almost in tears.

‘Well, really,' said Noel. ‘You call it bullying when I carry out my plan instead of yours. I almost sympathize with Paul. I think I'll drive into this yard, it looks a suitable place.' He got into the car, switched the engine on, and began to crawl round and through the open doors of the stable yard.

Dora watched him, despairing. She knew from his manner that he was quite determined to stay. It was no use pleading any further. This being so she must take some other steps to avoid an explosion. As it was, Paul would certainly be wanting to quarrel with her all night. But her immediate concern was to prevent a scene of open violence. Her own rites were after all to be the climax of the ceremony, and although a certain amount of chaos and failure in the preliminaries would not displease her she didn't want the thing to break down too badly; and in any case quite simply she feared the hideousness of Paul's anger exposed to the public view. She turned back along the gravel. There was the bell and there was Mrs Mark still tacking down ribbons, only two or three of which still streamed like banners. Dora's mind, attuned by brief practice to the exigencies of generalship, functioned. It was no good spending more time disputing with Noel. What time remained must be spent otherwise. How?

Dora's first instinct was to rush straight to Paul and tell him herself before he found out in some other way. Perhaps she could break it to him gently, calm him down, explain. She began to run along the terrace, passing Mrs Mark who looked at her inquiringly and started to say something. But before she got to the steps she was vividly picturing the scene and had changed her mind. As soon as Paul knew that Noel was here he would be deaf to any further commentary from her. Incoherent with rage and jealousy he would charge straight past her. She could never control him. Who could? She ran back again, once more passing Mrs Mark, who once more looked at her inquiringly and started to say something, and began to ascend the steps to the balcony. Noel, who had emerged from the stable yard, came across and began to pursue her up the steps, calling, ‘Dora, can we fix somewhere to meet later on?' Dora paid no attention, rushed in through the hall and out into the corridor. She had decided to go and see Michael. It was just possible that Michael might make Paul see that, for the sake of the brotherhood, no public scene must be made on this day of all days.

Dora had never visited Michael's office, but she knew roughly where it was. When she found the door she knocked and bounded in without further ceremony. Her entry was so rapid that she had time to witness a little of the previous scene before its participants realized it had come to an end. Michael was sitting in a chair, leaning well forward, his elbows on his knees, his two hands extended. Toby was sitting on the floor just in front of him, one leg curled under, the other crooked up at the knee. One hand clasped his raised leg while the other was in process of making some gesture in Michael's direction. As Dora entered they both scrambled hastily to their feet.

‘Oh hello, Toby,' said Dora, ‘that's where you are, is it. I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Michael, but something awful has happened. '

Michael looked appalled. ‘What?' he said.

‘Someone I used to know has turned up, a journalist, to write about the bell. But when Paul finds out he's here he'll tear the place up. You must go and tell him not to.' This seemed to state the case.

Michael looked relieved. Then he looked at Toby. Toby mumbled something about ‘Better be off now.' Dora began to say something to him but he went off without looking at her. Michael made to follow him, got as far as the door, and then came back looking confused and distracted. Dora was firm. Generalship was beginning to come to her. She said to Michael, ‘Do you understand? '

‘Yes, no,' said Michael. ‘This man, this reporter is here now and you think Paul will make a jealous scene? Can't you persuade him to go?'

‘He won't go,' said Dora, ‘and it's no use your telling him to. What I want you to do is to prevent Paul from exploding. I'm going to tell Paul about it straight away.' She turned and set off again at a run. She could hear Michael's footsteps following her. They clattered down the uncarpeted stairs and out through the hall.

On the terrace, Noel was talking to Mrs Mark. They stopped to stare at the spectacle of Michael and Dora.

Noel said, ‘Everyone seems to be in a terrible hurry today.'